


Dolores

by just_a_sunflower_girl



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Major Character Death, angsty because it’s set in the apocalypse and it’s Five, circumstantial angst??, does it count as a meet cute if they’re the only one’s alive?, five and Dolores meeting of sorts, the world ended boys that’s how it be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_sunflower_girl/pseuds/just_a_sunflower_girl
Summary: The world had ended a week ago.—How Dolores and Five met





	Dolores

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like the idea of Dolores being sentient in some way so I wrote this

The world had ended a week ago. 

 

It had shaken and trembled and come crashing down in a symphony of flames and screaming. She had been alone since then.

 

The fires that had brought the destruction had yet to die out, ash and smog layered thick in the air. For the first time in so many years she was glad she couldn’t breathe.  

 

There were no vessels left and she had been growing weak. She had stumbled upon the doll, in need of something stable to tie her to the plane. Even through the death of all of those around her she insisted on surviving. 

 

The doll was broken and scuffed, fitting for the world she found herself in. 

 

Then he came.

 

Dirty and tearful, pulling along a little red wagon with bleeding hands. 

 

He had been digging, through the rubble and the ash. 

 

He came and he stared right at her. 

 

_ Hello _

 

He blinked, owlish and scared. He was alive though. He was a survivor as well. 

 

“It’s too early for me to be going crazy” he had mumbled, running a hand down his face, leaving dirt streaks along his cheeks. 

 

_ You’re not crazy _

 

“A mannequin in talking to me. Seems pretty crazy” he had said, walking past her. 

 

He ignored her calling out to him as he left. 

 

He came back the next day and stared at her, his little red wagon clutched in his still bleeding hand. 

 

_ Hello. _

 

“How can I hear you?”

 

_ My soul is in this mannequin  _

 

“That seems stupid, are you sure I’m not crazy?” 

 

_ Maybe you are. I’m just a mannequin.  _

 

He had laughed, humourless and dry. 

 

“I think I’d rather be crazy than lonely”  

 

He had loaded her into his little red wagon, smeared the blood from his hand onto her nice white blouse. It was fine, they were survivors. 

 

“Are you dead?”

 

_ No, I’ve never been alive before. _

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

_ I can’t be dead if I’ve never lived. _

 

She had never been alive before, it was a fact. She had no body of her own, no life or family. She was a detached spirit, not dead and never alive. 

 

“What happened?”

 

_ The world ended. _

 

“How?” 

 

_ I don’t know. _

 

He had sighed again, paused and shook. Like he was crying without the tears. 

He didn’t speak to her again for quite some time. 

 

He brought her back, in his little red wagon and put her on a particularly flat piece of rubble, amongst other things he had appeared to have gathered. 

 

She watched him, leave and come back each day with his little red wagon. He’d leave with in empty and come back with it full. 

 

Eventually he started talking to her again, the loneliness winning over his grief for those who he had lost. 

 

“What’s your name?”

 

_ I don’t have one. _

 

“Neither do I” he said, sad and lonely eyes cast the the four neatly arranged stones marked by numbers. She had never asked about them and she never will. 

 

“You can call me Five” he had said. His name was a number and in a sad way it suited him. 

 

“I’ll call you Dolores” he had said, weepy and dirty. Blood from his hands stained his face 

 

_ Dolores. _

 

_ I like it. _


End file.
